So - 'tis the season once again. For many who observe Christmas, Kwanzaa, Hanukah, Rohatsu, the Solstice, Mawlid el-Nabi, or any other usually sacred tradition, for whatever reason, whether it's THE reason or not - the recognition of the tradition isn't a terribly daunting task. But some folks over the years, however, myself included, have at times found themselves in manoeuvres around issues concerning certain holidays. That would be Christmas for me - stemming from its commercialism to a lamenting that it's “not what it used to be when I was a kid." And worse, for some, it is a bitter reminder of their loneliness or loss.
I've realized, from personal experience, that fighting the changes in my life that have altered this holiday; taken me away from “how it used to be" and trying to get that back, does not make it more enjoyable; indeed, less so. Christmas, like anything else in life, will inevitably change, if only for the fact the we are getting older and the wonder and magic of it all is now in need of our own creation, rather than simply allowing it to wash over us as we did when we were children. For myself, as a boy, it was as magical as can be, illuminated and sparkling, even in the green and red streetlights of the intersections.
As a funeral director, and after a few failed attempts of my own, to hold onto the past, it feels particularly acute when someone dies around such a festive time of year. Similarly, as folks are not reticent about having a funeral service on a family members birthday if they can help it, or a funeral service near the time of a wedding - a death around Christmas time, seems to enlarge the wound of the loss.
I remember quite poignantly a few of the Christmas's I've experienced after my father died and then again, my mother; and how very different they felt. And they didn't even die around the holiday. And recently, that first Christmas after my brother and sister-in-law, who I love dearly, moved to BC. And the one after my divorce. It was just - more vacant; more reflective. It doesn't always bear more significance if a death occurred near the Christmas festivities or not. For those who celebrate the time, it can be sharp, simply because the loss is in direct juxtaposition to a time of gathering, a time of joy and goodwill and family (and hopefully) our larger human family is considered as well.
To help heal the wound of the loss on any blessed Christmas eve or morn, there are things that can draw those loved and lost closer. I have in past years, after the death of my parents, filled a special decorative wooden box with sand or rice and for each guest, friend, or family member who might be in my company; they may take a thin tapered candle and stick it into the box and light it in memory of someone they personally love and miss. That way, that person's spirit remains alive in the room at a time when their physical body is missed. The box of candles is set in a place of honour, the candles burn down, while the evening or day begins.
Another tradition, one which is easily passed from generation to generation now - Christmas cookies! Before mom died, we made and translated each special recipe into English from the traditional German handwriting of my mother's mother. Now that my mom has passed, those cookies will be made well into the future and it simply isn't Christmas without them. Perhaps a piece of music that was traditionally played around the holiday can bring a loved one into the room. For my father's spirit, that would be “Christmas Time Is Here" by Vince Guaraldi or selections by the great jazz great George Shearing whom my dad played on the record player before gifts were opened. For my mom it would be the more sombre Adagio in G by Albinoni or something by JS Bach. And for those of you who like to settle into more of a sombre tone – perhaps an empty chair, decorated lovingly, and placed in a corner of the room. Or a Christmas Eve journal, preserved, and written in; only once each year.
Whatever you choose, there is no benefit whatever to putting aside thoughts or traditions that remind one of so-called “better" days or even trying to hold onto them as they were. Embrace them in all of the blessed melancholy they may give you, and create a little something new, to call those you love back into your space. It's all healing. Recognize what you have been given through Christmases gone by and wherever possible; spread their warm dressings to those around you. And yes – allow the joy of thankfulness and the melancholy of loss, the space to breathe, equally... both filling the room. And your celebration will create the love it was meant to.
CHRISTMAS TIME IS HERE
